


Six Months Too Late

by palegalaxy



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bipolar Ian, Depression, Gallavich, M/M, One Shot, Sad, Shameless Big Bang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-30
Updated: 2015-11-30
Packaged: 2018-05-04 02:07:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5316212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/palegalaxy/pseuds/palegalaxy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mickey had gotten use to the quietness of the house and the emptiness inside him, he was starting to realize that Ian would never come back home after he abruptly left. Until he shows up and everything that was now settled goes to hell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Six Months Too Late

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this for 2015 shameless big bang round 4. it's a first draft and hasn't been edited or touched since i finished it because of another writing challenge i started after i finished writing this one. so warning if its complete shit.  
> other than that, enjoy.

Mickey grabbed a beer from the fridge and made his way back to the couch. Sitting in the same position he had been since he got home from work at another shitty, small, convenience store.  
He turned the TV on to whatever channel that was already playing, and turned up the volume. He didn’t like the silence, no matter what he still wasn’t use to it.  
It wasn’t until he looked down at his hands, did he realize that out of natural instinct, he had gotten two beers. 1 for him, and 1 for the boy that left six months ago.  
“Dammit,” he said quietly to himself. He had been getting quite good at forgetting that someone was missing. That something, was missing.  
Surprisingly, he had been doing well at staying addicted to strictly alcohol and cigarettes. He knew himself, and he knew anything else, and you’d never get him to stop.  
Mickey looked over the coffee table in front of him, trying to find his cigarettes which he had thrown on the table when he got home. He sat up straight and began moving around papers and empty bottles. He found the carton right at the edge of the table. Desperate for a smoke, he reached over until his fingers grasped the carton. He pressed his four fingers onto the top of it, and watched as it bent. It was empty.  
“Of course,” he had smoked his last two after he ran into Fiona on his lunch break. The conversation went how it always did:  
“Heard anything from Ian?”  
“Nope. Sorry Mickey, if he calls or stops by, I’ll let you know.”  
“Thanks Fiona.”  
“Anytime. How are you?”  
That’s when he made up a bullshit lie and asked her the same question, she’d shrug it off and lie too. Guess it ran in the family.  
Mickey grabbed whatever money was laying on the table and his coat from the couch, shoving the bills and coins in the pocket as he put it on. Chicago was always cold during October, always.  
He made his way to the door and once he was out, he walked all the way down the block too. Thankfully enough, there was a store at the end of it which sold cigarettes. They weren't the best prices, but at this point anything would do.  
Mickey opened up the door to the convenience store and went straight to the counter.  
“Can I get a pack of Marlboro reds?” he asked the short girl that stood behind the counter. She didn’t bother to ask for an ID, just handed him the box and stuck her hand out for the total. He didn’t need to check how much it cost, he counted out the money from his pocket before handing her the money. She sat there counting the coins before looking back up at him, unimpressed.  
“You’re two dollars short.” She kept her hand out and chewed her gum loudly.  
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Mickey shoved his hand back in his pocket and pulled out a couple pennies, but nothing that would equal to how much he needed. “Come on, its two dollars.”  
“So what? You give me the money or you don’t get the pack.” Mickey tried to take a deep breath, but he was two seconds away from sock-punching the girl in the face and running out with his pack.  
“You know what? Fuck you, and your store.” He grabbed the money back and shoved it into his pockets. If he stood there any longer, he was going to lose it. He was going to lose it all over again and he would do something that he would regret.  
Mickey stormed out into the cold and without a cigarette to calm him. It was as if the day decided to fall apart on him.  
And then he heard his voice.  
“Need a smoke?”  
Mickey looked up from the ground and saw Ian Gallagher standing in the middle of the sidewalk. He had a cigarette in one hand and an open pack in the other. He looked… well, he looked quite the same. His hair combed back, a green sweater pulled over a black tank top. There wasn’t a single thing about him that changed.  
Mickey’s first instinct was to kiss him so hard, that he fell on the concrete and would hopefully smack his head and bleed to death.  
“Need a smoke? Need a-fucking-smoke? Are you fucking kidding me?” He stepped back from Ian and held his hand out. He wanted to reach out and grab him, but his mind held his hand still. Twitching somewhere between.  
“Listen I- I’m sorry.”  
“You’re sorry? Come on Ian, you can do better than that,” Mickey reached forward and snatched the pack from his hands, pulling out a cigarette and placing it between his lips.  
“I know that I screwed up, but I came back and-” Before Ian could finish, Mickey was throwing the pack at his feet and backing up quickly.  
“Just- Don’t fucking come back.” Ian stepped forward but Mickey just took two extra steps back. “You left. Ian, you left.” He didn’t say anything else, nor did he give him more time to reply. He quickly lit the cigarette before turning around and taking a run down the street.  
Mickey brushed his hair back and pulled the cigarette from his mouth, breathing the smoke out of his mouth and shoving his other hand in his pocket. What the fuck did Ian think he was doing? Walking in and trying to just act like this was all okay? Like he hadn’t been totally screwed over for the past couple months?  
He opened the door to his house and slammed it closed. He headed straight to the couch where he grabbed his already opened beer and took a swing of it. He couldn’t think properly.  
Ian was back. After almost six months. After Ian just left on a dime and didn’t ever call, didn’t explain why he was leaving, just left.  
Mickey threw his jacket down and tossed the unopened bottle at the wall. Fuck Ian Gallagher, and fuck anything that they ever had.  
In a fit of rage, he ran to the door and twisted the deadbolt. Pressing his back against the door and letting himself fall to the ground. A beer bottle in hand and a lighted cigarette in his mouth.  
Why did Ian have to come back now? Why not 3 months ago when Mickey was leaving desperate messages in his voicemail box? Begging him to “get his ass home or so help me God”. Why the fuck did he pick now, when Mickey was making progress at forgetting the goddamn boy with the ginger head that changed everything that made Mickey, Mickey? Why didn’t he realize that he caused enough damage?  
“Come on Mickey, please open the door.” Ian firmly tapped his knuckles against the wooden door, and yet it was his voice that made Mickey’s bones vibrate.  
“Get the fuck off these premises before I call the cops!” Mickey slammed his head against the door and took another drag of his cigarette. Taking a giant gulp of his beer after he blew out the smoke.  
“You won’t call them Mick and we both know it. And even if you did, you know they won’t do pig shit about it me being here. They know the history we have.”  
At that point, Mickey was standing up. Beer in one hand and the other on the door knob. He opened the door and uncurled one finger from his grip on the bottle and pressed it against Ian’s chest.  
“We had, Ian. That relationship became history the second you decided to leave you fucking piece of-” Before he could reply he felt Ian’s lips on his. It was like everything was brought back together and two tides were colliding. Ian placed his hands around Mickey’s neck and Mickey didn’t have the power over Ian, he never did.  
Ian pushed his body forward and before he knew it, Mickey was guiding him to the couch. He wasn’t sure if Ian had a jacket on when he came in, but he didn’t now. Just his black tank top and jeans. Mickey was lying on the couch and Ian was on top of him, their lips had left only for a few seconds since they touched. Ian had his hand travelling down his chest until he reached the hem of his shirt. Then it slipped under and crawled up his skin. And just like that, all the walls and months of protection that Mickey had built up, came falling down.  
Mickey woke up in a daze. His head spun and he tried not to think of too many things at once. He was on his bed and to the left of him was Ian’s green sweater. He was sure that this was all a dream. Another stupid, dumbass dream, where Ian came back and said how sorry he was and then suddenly everything was okay. He felt like such a bitch every time he had a dream like that. Because no matter how girls he fucked or guys he tried to date, it always ended up coming back to Ian. He couldn’t move on when he was waiting for someone to return.  
Then he remembered it wasn’t a dream.  
“Oh fuck me.” Mickey mumbled as he tried to sit up. Ian did come by last night, and Mickey did try to say no. Dammit. If only he hadn’t opened the door. But he did and then Ian kissed him and… And then he had sex with him and now he was in his kitchen and- making pancakes?  
He lifted himself up from his bed and stumbled out of his room. The whole house smelled like pancakes and everything that he was feeling made him want to throw up all over the dirt stained carpet. He walked into the kitchen and saw Ian in his same outfit from last night, in front of Mickey’s kitchen counter with a spatula in hand and four pancakes cooking on a pan.  
“Morning! I thought you’d never wake up,” Ian just took a quick glance at Mickey before turning his eyes back on the pancakes. Mickey didn’t reply. Just stared as Ian scooped up a spoonful of batter and poured it on the greasy pan. As if this was their normal morning routine.  
“So are you my travel wife now? Think you can leave for months then just come back and start making breakfast and shit? Like it’s your fucking job or something?”  
Ian flipped the cooked pancakes onto a plate next to the burner and quickly turned off the burner. Leaning against the counter with his palms pressed against the edges.  
“I know… I know I fucked up-”  
“No I fucked up. Last night, by letting you inside and by- That was my mistake but now… Now you need to leave.”  
Ian turned around but kept his hands pressed against the edges of the counter. “I came back to try to fix this. I want to fix this.”  
Mickey laughed and shook his head. “Great fucking job, Ian! The only thing that you’ve managed to do is break things. And you knew damn well that it would happen. So don’t give me any of that ‘fix you, fix me’ bullshit.” He walked over to the fridge and grabbed a beer from it. Who gave a shit if it was 10 o’clock in the morning? He was drinking beer.  
“I still love you Mickey.” Ian was now standing near the fridge. He had one hand that he used to comb his hair back and another was holding onto the door handle of the freezer.  
“Go fuck yourself Gallagher.”  
Ian just laughed and Mickey slammed his bottle hard onto the counter surface. “I fucking mean it Ian.” He didn’t understand how Ian expected him to just drop his guard again. To let him inside his house and forget about everything.  
“Just give me a chance. Please,” he barked.  
“How ‘bout let’s start with where the fuck you’ve been for the past couple months? I thought you were dead.” Mickey spit. He turned to face Ian and was only a few feet from his face.  
“I’m sorry Mickey. Okay? I fucked up big time and I did something out of instinct. I didn’t know what else to do and I ran. It was a mistake and I can’t change that but I’m fucking trying.” Ian looked like he was about to start crying but all Mickey could feel is what he felt when he woke up and found that Ian wasn’t next to him. That all his clothes were gone and any sign of his existence was missing.  
“No, I can get past the running part. But you stayed, Ian. You fucking stayed gone,” he had his hands up and he was balling them into fists to keep himself from throwing something. “I could get past the fact that you left. If you came back the next day and explained what you did. But you didn’t. You left and you never said why or called and said that you were okay.”  
“That’s not true.”  
“It’s not? What? You send some gay-ass pink letter in the mail explaining what happened, but it just happened to get lost in the mail, right? Some bullshit excuse?”  
Ian licked his bottom lip and shook his head.  
“Then what?”  
“I left Fiona a message saying that I was okay… I didn’t want her to worry…”  
Mickey pressed his lips together and shook his head violently. “Get out.” He stated very calmly.  
“What?”  
Ian looked confused, so he yelled it.  
“Get the fuck out of my house!”  
Mickey was throwing things now. Punching the parts of the fridge that Ian stood next to. Trying to scare him into leaving. He firmly pressed his palms against Ian’s shoulders and pinned him against the fridge door.  
“Get the hell out.” He spoke through grit teeth and Ian moved his head towards Mickey’s. Ian’s eyes determined; not scared.  
“I’m sorry that I left Mick- I’m sorry that I hur-”  
Mickey grabbed chunks of his shirt and pushed him hard against the fridge. “I fucking love you. I can’t ever hate you, Ian.  
“But…Me? I can’t fucking stand myself. Because even when you left and never called. When you proved that you didn’t give a flying shit about me. I still lied down every night wondering what the fuck I did wrong.”  
Mickey dropped his hands and backed up. He couldn’t stay here anymore. He ran to the living room and searched the room until he found Ian’s jacket; it sat on the back of the couch where they left it last night when Ian took it off. He pulled out the pack of cigarettes and took one from it. Using a lighter that laid on the coffee table to light the tip of it as he stuck it between his lips.  
He shoved down the jacket and took out through the door. He couldn’t believe what he just said. He couldn’t believe what he just admitted to, how much power he just gave Ian. He had to get away from him until he had time to process his thoughts and just think for a moment.  
Mickey got in his car and started down the road. He decided that if he was going to go anywhere, he might as well try to get some sort of answers. He took a right and headed down the road until he reached the Gallagher household.  
“Hey! Gallagher’s!” He screamed as he stepped out of his car. The window was opened and he could hear Liam yelling from the fence. “Is Fiona home?” He asked when he saw a face appear at the window. It was Debbie. He didn’t know what she was doing home from school, but he didn’t care enough to ask either.  
“Mickey? What’re you doing here?”  
He heard Fiona’s voice from inside the house. He climbed up the steps and pulled open the unlocked front door.  
“Can we talk?” Mickey bit his bottom lip and Fiona nodded.  
He followed her into the kitchen, where she shooed out a sick looking Carl who was pouring himself a cup of orange juice. He groaned, but didn’t argue, just nodded at Mickey before leaving upstairs with his cup of orange juice.  
“What’s up with him?” Mickey questioned as he let his gaze turn back to Fiona.  
“He and Debbie are both home from school with fevers.” Fiona replied as she started putting away a group of dry dishes by the kitchen sink. She never stopped doing something, she was always cleaning or making food or helping hide a dead body. Honestly she never stopped working, and at the moment, it really made him want to hold off with telling her about Ian. She didn’t need the added pressure.  
“It’s Ian…” Mickey said unsurely.  
“What about him?”  
She didn’t sound surprised, which suggested that what Ian said was right. He did call Fiona, and she just never told him that she heard from him. He wanted to be upset with her. He should have been, she kept him from plenty nights of peace. But he knew that there had to have been a bigger reason. She knew just how unpredictable Ian was, she knew that even though he called, it didn’t mean he was coming back.  
“He’s back in Chicago.”  
“He is? Where? How do you know?”  
She stopped putting away the dishes and turned to look at Mickey. A white glass plate in her hand as her eyes lit up with a mix of worry and joy.  
“Did you talk to him at all? Is he okay? Where was he?”  
Mickey shook his head and stepped back. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Slow down there,” he said with a small smile. “I ran into him when I was out. I think he was heading to my house when he found me. I don’t know what he’s doing here or where he’s been. We didn’t really talk a lot.”  
“That bastard! He stopped by your house before mine?” She didn’t seem angry, not actually angry. It was easy to know the difference with Fiona. “Well, what did he tell you?” She put the plate that was in her hands away before turning to face Mickey. Her back against the counter. She leaned against it just like Ian did. It was incredibly easy to see that she raised him.  
“Just- Gave me a bunch of bullshit excuses. Shit about how he was sorry.”  
“I’m sorry Mickey. I- I don’t know why he left.”  
Mickey nodded and tried not to think about it. “He told me that he called you. Telling you that he was alive and alright.” Fiona’s face shattered.  
“Fuck… I’m sorry.”  
“No.” He shook his head and pressed his lips together. “No more sorrys. Your brother gave enough for the both of you.”  
“It’s just- He told me not to tell you. I thought that maybe… Maybe I was doing you a favor by not telling you? I thought that maybe if I didn’t tell you than you wouldn’t keep your hopes up…”  
“You didn’t think he was going to come back?”  
“Honestly? No. He was scared and I really didn’t think that he would come back…” Her voice drifted off and she looked down at her feet. “I hate to say it but… He always was more like Monica than the rest of us. I prayed that no one would end up with even a bit of her, but when he ran…I thought ‘Well this is it. He’s running away just like Monica.’ I hoped that I was wrong. And that maybe in a week he would be back and would say that he just needed time by himself but…” Mickey nodded. He knew it too.  
“He wants to get back together.” Mickey didn’t plan on telling her the whole story, especially not the part where they had sex, but he was already explaining a lot, and he thought ‘might as well’, maybe she would be able to help, if anything.  
“Well you’re not going to right? I mean I love him just as much as you, but what he did was screwed up.”  
Mickey wasn’t sure what he was going to do. He didn’t want to have to decide whether or not he let Ian back into his life. Why couldn’t he had just stayed gone? He was doing a pretty damn good job at it for the past six months.  
Fiona must had been able to see the lack of energy in Mickey’s face, because she dropped her hands to the side of her and apologized. “God, I’m sorry Mickey. I know it’s not that easy. I… I know how much you care about him.” She used the back of her hand to wipe her forehead, pressing her knuckles against her hairline before turning around her hand and pulling her fingers through her hair. “Just- Make him explain first, alright? He can’t just do that to you; or to any of us. I mean, Debbie cried herself to sleep every night the first two weeks after he vanished.” Fiona was looking more upset now. Her eyes were getting heavy and he could practically see as her mind thought more about the situation, she seemed to be getting more and more frustrated with every passing second.  
“Do you know if he’s planning on stopping by at all?”  
“He better. He’s not staying with me. I have to sort out my own shit before I’m ready to deal with his.” Fiona nodded, although didn’t look too pleased; because then it meant he would end up staying there, which she didn’t want any more than he did.  
“If he’s there when you get back, can you tell him to at least stop by? Tell him if he doesn’t, we’re walking to him with bats.” She raised her eyebrows as she spoke and nodded. He smiled very vaguely and nodded.  
“I’ll tell him.”  
Carl yelled from upstairs something about vomit before being cut off by a splash noise. Fiona forced Mickey a smile before shrugging as to say ‘what can you do?’ and heading toward the steps. He took this as a sign to leave. Fiona had a lot to deal with right now, and he did too.  
He exited the house and drove silently until he reached his house. The house looked quiet and it didn’t look like much had changed from when he left. He took a half smoked cigarette from an ashtray on the dashboard, and lit it up again. Smoking it up until the filter and finally jiggling the lock on the door a couple times until it opened. Stupid fucking car, was total trash, he was surprised it could even run.  
“Ian?” Mickey called out into the house as he entered. Half of him wanted for any trace of him to be gone, and the other half had already become too attached to him to hope that he left again. He got his answer when he saw the red headed boy enter the living room.  
He looked a mess. His hair wasn’t combed back, it looked more like it did when he had first met Ian; a long, long time ago. His knuckles were bleeding ever so slightly, and he stood in his boxers and a white tank top.  
“I’m sorry Mickey. I’m so fucking sorry.” His eyes were puffy and he looked like he was about to start weeping again very soon. Mickey didn’t know how to react.  
“Ian, what the fuck happened?”  
Out of natural reaction, he took a step forward and approached Ian. His hands automatically reaching toward his bloody hands and his eyes staying away from Ian’s eyes.  
“I- I just- I fucked up!” Ian’s temper quickly rose and Mickey had to keep himself from taking a step back. He held Ian’s hands in his and examined his wounds. It was a nasty mix of scrapes and cuts from punching something firm; most likely a wall.  
Mickey kept one hand holding tightly onto his, and used the other one to touch Ian’s cheek. “Hey, Ian. Look at me. What happened?”  
Ian’s eyes passed Mickey’s, but never held contact. “I- I thought you left for good…”  
Mickey bit his bottom lip and dropped Ian’s hand. He took a step back and a deep breath along with it. “I should have.”  
Ian wiped his thumb against his bloody knuckles and looked down at his feet.  
“Don’t you realize that it wasn’t just me you left, Ian? You left your family. Fiona, Liam, Carl, Debbie. Don’t you think they’ve had enough people walk out on them?”  
Ian stayed silent. He grabbed a paper towel and soaked it in the sink, using it to wipe away the blood that dried on his hands.  
“I was planning on seeing them… Eventually. After I sorted everything out with you.”  
“It’s going to take more than an apology and a fuck to sort things out with me.” Mickey spit and Ian dropped the paper towel in the garbage.  
“But I- I can sort this out right, Mick?”  
Ian looked up from the ground and his eyes were watering. He looked like a little kid who made a mess and didn’t know how to clean it. Actually, that’s exactly what he was. He left and fucked up every relationship he had and now that he was back he was learning the consequences.  
“Ahh fuck…” Mickey wiped his brow and ran his fingers through his hair. He loved Ian. He loved Ian. But he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to make this work.  
“Please, Mickey.” Ian stepped forward and he reached his hand to touch Mickey. His hand brushing Mickey’s.  
“Tell me why you left.”  
“What?”  
“Why did you leave? If you think I’m going to just fucking let you back without you giving a reason to why you left, then you’re on something, man.”  
Ian nodded and walked over to the couch. He took a seat at the edge of it and Mickey followed him to the other side of the couch. Ian sat with his elbows on his knees and he smoked a cigarette that he picked up from the table.  
“I got scared.”  
“You what?”  
“I got scared, Mick. It was late and you were asleep. I couldn’t stop thinking about you and I. What if my bipolar started acting up again? Like, really bad. And what if I couldn’t control it?”  
Mickey sighed and licked his bottom lip. Why couldn’t he have woken up and reassured Ian?  
“I thought that by leaving- That maybe I was doing you a favor. That I was keeping myself from hurting you. By the time I left it was too late to turn back. I got on train after train until I somehow found myself in Michigan. I went to a bar and a guy came up to me and started talking to me and-”  
Mickey cut him off before he could finish speaking. “Wait, you fucking cheated on me?”  
“No! No, it wasn’t like that. I talked to him, and I don’t remember what I was saying because I was drinking heavily and he offered his house for me to stay at. So I went there and we became good friends.”  
“And by good friends you mean fuck buddies? Did he know that you were just fucking him to forget about me?”  
“I didn’t fuck him, Mickey!” Ian dropped his hands and shook his head. “After I had been there for a couple of months, he tried to make a move on me. We- He kissed me and before I knew what I was doing it was over and I broke down. After that, I guess I became distant, because he told me that I should go back to you. He knew I wasn’t happy there and he suggested that maybe it was time for me to go back home. So I did.  
“I’m sorry. I’ve said it a million times but I don’t know any other way to make this better.”  
“How many times did you fuck him?” Mickey didn’t miss a beat. Spitting out words right after Ian stopped talking.  
“Just… Just that once. I didn’t mean for it to happen, but…I’m sorry. It just happened that one time and then he- And then I told him that I had to leave for a little bit. I stayed the night at a hotel. When I came back it was obvious that staying for any longer wouldn’t be a good idea, he said I should go back. Back to Chicago, back to you.”  
Mickey had to take a deep breath so he didn’t throw the beer bottle that sat in front of him. He loved Ian. He fucking loved him. But the idea of letting him back inside so easily scared the shit out of him. He could just leave again. He could always just leave.  
“Why didn’t you call? Or text? Maybe a fucking “Hi, I’m alive, sorry I’m a fucking asshole”, would have been nice.” He took a cigarette from the table and stuck it between his lips, and lit the end of it.  
“I told you. I thought I was doing you a favor. And by the time I could think clearly, I thought I had fucked up too much to fix it.”  
Mickey let out a small laugh. It caught Ian off guard, he crooked his neck to look at Mickey and he raised his eyebrows slightly.  
“What?”  
“You thought that after being gone 1 night, you had screwed up too much to fix this. But you for some reason, thought that you could come back after six fucking months, and just expect me to let you back?”  
Ian tried to talk but Mickey just shook his head and finished his cigarette.  
“I don’t get it. I don’t understand why you think you can just fucking do that.”  
“I know. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have went about this like I did. I- I had a plan, and it wasn’t to just show up at your house at night and just think you would let me back. I didn’t even plan on seeing you that night, I was just going to see if you were still here, before I did anything. But then I saw you inside of the store, and I knew I could walk away without you ever seeing me. But I- I couldn’t. I saw you standing there and I don’t know- I missed you, Mickey.”  
Mickey was having a hard time not standing up now. He felt like he needed to hit something. To start pacing the room until he reached a wall that he could punch.  
“Why do you do this? You fucking leave and I finally get use to you not being here. And then you come back out of the blue, and you say that you love and miss me and you-” He had to stand up now. His hands were balled into fists and he was struggling to keep them at the sides of him.  
“Mickey. I’m not asking for you to make a decision now. I- I mean I wish you could, but I’ll wait.”  
He was about to take a swing at the wall when Ian spoke. He stopped moving before slowly turning to face him. “You’ll what?”  
“I’ll wait for you to decide. I’ll stay at Fiona’s until you know what to do – whenever that is.”  
He nodded and carefully sat back down.  
“I’m going to go visit Fiona, and Debbie, and Carl. I- I still have a lot of explaining to do.”  
Mickey nodded and watched as Ian pressed the cigarette filter into the ashtray on the coffee table and stood up. He ran his fingers through his hair roughly and quietly exited the room. When he came back, he had changed into jeans and wore a black shirt underneath his green jacket.  
“Can I stop by after seeing them?”  
He debated the question for a minute. Part of him wanted to say no, he wasn’t sure if seeing him would do any good. But then the other part of him was scared that if he said no, then he might just disappear again. “Yeah. Go for it. I’ll probably be sleeping, I have work in the morning.”  
“You have a job?” Ian questioned with a small smirk and raised eyebrows.  
“Oh shut up. Somehow had to get money in after you left.” He replied bitterly. Although when he looked away, he couldn’t help but let a slight smiled appear on his lips. He had missed their stupid fights more than anything. Well, almost, anything.  
Ian grabbed a pair of keys off the table, and for a second he thought he was going to take Mickey’s piece-of-shit car. But he looked over to the other side of the table and saw his keys sitting there.  
“Wait, you got a car?”  
It was Mickey’s turn to raise his eyebrows curiously.  
“He was rich. He gave me one of his cars to take back with me.”  
“Rich, huh? No wonder you stayed for as long as you did.”  
He didn’t mean it as a joke, but Ian still smiled. And although he was still upset, it was nice to see.  
“Now go. Remember that ‘I’ll wait for you to decide’ bullshit that you were talking about a few seconds ago? Yeah well go wait out there.”  
Ian tightened his grip on his keys and shoved his hand in his pocket. He nodded and turned toward the door, giving a slight wave goodbye before opening the door and walking outside; slamming the door behind him.  
Mickey rubbed his face with his hands and covered his mouth with his hand. He took a seat at the couch and leaned back into the cushion. He felt like kicking himself for already letting his anger down so quickly, but part of him enjoyed everything feeling normal again. He tried to enjoy the feeling, but in the back of his head, he felt a timer going off. Reminding him that any second now, things could slip right back to the way they were before.  
He took a long nap, and when he woke up a few hours later, Ian still wasn’t back. He smoked 3 of Ian’s cigarettes since he woke up, and he was about to start his 4th when he decided to go to The Alibi. He needed to drink and not think about the issue. Ian was at Fiona’s, and he was probably getting the talk of his life from her. Like he said, he had plenty of explaining to do, to a lot of people other than Mickey.  
He grabbed some loose change from the table and stuffed it in his coat pocket along with the rest of the money that he had on him.  
He slipped the coat on and swiped his keys from the table as he walked toward the door. Locking it on his way out and heading to his car.  
When he arrived at The Alibi, he was just finishing his 4th cigarette and trying not to pay attention to his phone. He had already gotten use to Ian being around, and now that he left, even for a little bit, it was strange.  
“Hey Mickey, haven’t seen you in a while.” Kevin stated as he started to pour him a drink. Just a classic beer.  
He took a seat in front of Kevin and next to Tommy, who was looking pretty drunk, but then again, you could never tell with him. He always looked pretty happy.  
“What’s wrong with you?” Kevin slid over the glass and Mickey grabbed the cup and took a giant gulp putting it down and talking.  
“Ian came back.”  
Mickey didn’t bother to look up, he wasn’t in the mood to be having this conversation right now, but he wasn’t going to lie to the guy.  
“What did I say?” Tommy chuckled and Mickey watched as he pulled out his hand to Kevin. Kevin just shook his head and pulled a $20 out of his pocket and handed it to Tommy.  
“Fuck you Tommy.” Kevin said. Tommy laughed and stuck the money in his pocket before turning back to his drink.  
“What? There was some bet on if he was coming back?” Mickey asked and Kevin looked embarrassed, but nodded.  
“Tommy bet $20 that he would come back, I said he wouldn’t.” He spoke the last part very quietly and Mickey knew it was because he felt bad, Mickey just shrugged.  
“I would have put $50 down on him not coming back.” He took another gulp of his beer and Kevin already started pouring him another cup. He knew they were sympathy beers, but he’d take them anyway.  
Kevin looked back and forth between Vee and Mickey before speaking up again.  
“So, what’d he want?” Kevin seemed edgy, but he asked the question and Mickey shrugged.  
He wasn’t so interested in blurting everything out to Kevin and Tommy, maybe if they waited for him to have a couple more drinks, but not now. “I- I don’t know. He- He wanted to talk I guess,” he took another gulp of his beer and stared at anything that wasn’t breathing.  
Kevin looked uneasy, but after a bit of silence, he continued down to the other side of the bar.  
Mickey was glad that no one pushed the topic, because after a few drinks, his mind had travelled down a rabbit hole, and the only thing that he was thinking about was how he was going to get home without crashing his car.  
“Kevin! My man! Let me knock out at your place?” Mickey tried to stand up from his chair but Kevin pressed his hand onto his shoulder and pushed him back down.  
“Go home, Mickey.”  
“I would, honestly. But I don’t think I’ll make it to the front door.”  
“Call Ian, isn’t he in debt to you since-”  
Mickey cut him off from speaking and shook his head. “No. No, no, no. I don’t want to hear about him, I want to sleep for a week.”  
“You’ve got to face him sometime, man,” Kevin grabbed the half empty drink from Mickey and poured it down the drain, “go home.”  
“I talked to him, alright? I’m done talking with him. I just need to go to bed safely, knowing he won’t just randomly show up.”  
Kevin took some time to think about this, and after a short moment, he flicked the head light for the bar off, and moved over to the other side of the bar. “Fine. You can stay on the couch for a night, but then you’re going back to your man and-”  
“Yeah alright I get it, save me the speech. I might be drunk but that still doesn’t mean I’m going to sit through one of your dumbass talks.”  
Kevin helped Mickey from the stool and walked with him down to his car.  
“Thanks, Kev.” Mickey mumbled from the backseat, leaning up against the window and passing out before Kevin could even put the car into drive.  
“So tell me again why Mickey is passed out on our couch?” Veronica spoke loudly. Mickey didn’t know where she was speaking from but it sounded like two banging drums in his ears.  
He opened his eyes and was immediately blinded by what felt like the sun, inches away from his face. “What the fuck?” Mickey closed his eyes as he tried to adjust himself on the couch.  
“I told you, he needed some place to stay at last night” Kevin replied, either ignoring Mickey or not noticing that he had woken up and said anything.  
“Doesn’t he have his own place? You know, with his dad in jail, and his sister God-knows-where?”  
“It’s a long story Vee. This was a one-time thing, he’ll be back home before tonight.”  
Mickey struggled to sit up. Resting his elbows on his knees and using his hands to shield out any light.  
Cautiously, he opened his eyes and tried to take note of his surroundings: He was sitting on Kevin and Veronica’s couch, in their home, and he was still wearing the clothes he had on from last night.  
He remembered a blur of things from last night, the biggest one still being that Ian had come home.  
“Fuck.” He blurted out.  
He had told Ian that he could stop by after he talked and tried to fix things with his family. That, and he had worked. Fuck. He had work.  
“What time is it?” Mickey asked and rubbed his eyes with the heel of his palms.  
“Morning sleepyhead. Late, I’ll tell you that much.”  
“How fucking late, Kev?”  
“Almost noon.”  
Mickey stood up and tried to make his way toward Kevin, but didn’t make it past the coffee table. Instead, he took a seat on the other side of the couch and acted like that was his plan all along. “Why the fuck didn’t you wake me up earlier? I have work at 12:30.”  
“Well I wasn’t about to be the one to get my ass beat from trying to wake you up. Did you know, you sleep with your fists balled up? Look like you’re about to throw a punch if I even shake you,” he held back a laugh before turning his face to a more serious look. “Plus, it’s about time you got a break, Mick. Go home, call your work and tell them you’re sick with the flu, drink a beer, lie on your couch and talk to Ian.” Kevin pulled his keys out of his pocket and tossed them to Mickey, “your car is outside.”  
Mickey caught the keys and nodded. He wanted to say against it, but it wasn’t worth it and he really needed to get out of the exact aim of the ray of light that was shining through the window on his right, making his headache much worse.  
“Thanks,” he mumbled. Stuffing his keys in his pocket and heading for the door.  
Mickey arrived at his home and saw that Ian’s car was parked outside. It was nice, definitely expensive.  
His house looked how it was when he left, except Ian was passed out on the couch. He wore a green tee-shirt, and he had grey sweatpants. He most likely came home last night to find an empty home, and passed out on the couch. He wanted to be upset that Ian thought that he could stay the night, and he almost decided on waking him and sending him on his way. But he looked too peaceful. He always had that weird calming vibe to him when he was sleeping. It had been something Mickey noticed even before they started seriously ‘dating’. Whatever that meant anyways.  
Instead of waking Ian up, he went straight to the bathroom and grabbed himself some Tylenol, along with a quick cup of water to chug it down.  
After taking the meds to help with his headache, he walked back into the living room and took a seat on the small green chair next to the couch.  
He let his eyes drift over to Ian’s sleeping body, and put shoved his hand under his thigh to keep it from reaching out and stroking Ian’s hair out of natural instinct.  
His mind could barely take in the fact that Ian was even back. Sure, there he was, lying on his couch with his face peaceful and his hands curled into his neck. But it felt unreal that he was actually back.  
The only thing he could remember was what it felt to have him gone for so long. All he could remember were the sleepless nights and dull days. It was strange knowing that he had gotten what he had secretly hoped for along. The worst part was that this was what he had always wanted. Ian to come back and beg for his forgiveness. But he couldn’t just accept it, that was what killed him. That every part of him knew that he couldn’t go on without him, but letting Ian come back into his life seemed crazy. It was what he wanted but couldn’t accept.  
It was angering, if anything. He didn’t know what he was going to do when it came down between deciding. Ian said that he would wait, and he believed him, but for fucks sake, he couldn’t just let Ian keep coming here and putting hope into their relationship if he just might say no in the end.  
But how could he? How could he possibly continue their relationship when all that went through his head when he saw Ian was the night he went missing? How he woke up to an empty bed and a cold feel in the house that he had only felt back in the day, when it was just his siblings, him, and his dad. It had felt like the house knew that Ian was gone. How he had tried not to panic, because this had happened before and he was never gone for more than a couple nights. He didn’t even bother to let Fiona know until it was the second night, because by then, he had gotten quite worried. He had left more than 15 messages in his voice mail.  
How by the time the first week was over, he had only gotten 15 hours of sleep.  
How he had only gotten through the second week by being drunk during the night and sleeping during the day.  
When he looked at Ian everything was peaceful. But in the back of his mind, the only thing that he could see, was every fucking day that he stood without him. And knowing that he might change his mind and leave again was so fucking scary.  
Mickey pulled his hand out from underneath his leg and let it reach out to Ian. Running his hand through Ian’s hair and rubbing his thumb against his forehead. He was his home. And making him go anywhere else just seemed silly. This was where he belonged.  
He leaned his head close to Ian and placed and gently kiss on his forehead before standing up and leaving to his room. He had work in 10 minutes and not a long time to get ready. Hopefully, Ian would sleep in a little later.  
He liked the idea of getting a little time away from Ian, to think. And also despised it. It was so fucking aggravating. How he spent every second of everyday wishing that Ian had never left. Even now that he was back, he still simply wished that he had never left. Then things wouldn’t be so damn complicated.  
Mickey went to the bathroom and grabbed the bottle of Tylenol, slipping a handful of pills in his pocket before heading out the door and to work.  
Work passed by normally. He got off work at 8pm but didn’t get home till closer to 9. He stopped to buy a pack of cigarettes since today was Friday and he got paid.  
When he got home, he saw that Ian’s car was still parked and the lights were still on. If he was inside, he was probably awake and waiting for Mickey.  
He smoked a cigarette on the front porch, smashing the bottom of it into the wood and flicking it onto the lawn before heading inside.  
Ian wasn’t in the front room and he wasn’t in the kitchen, so Mickey grabbed a beer from the fridge and entered his room.  
Ian was lying on Mickey’s bed with a dead look in his eyes. He was turned on his side and for a minute it felt like the world stopped. Had he hit his low stage already? Was this going to be like the time he enlisted all over again?  
He ran to Ian before he could even think if it was the right thing to do. His only thought was that he had to get Ian up.  
“Hey! Sleepyface!” he jumped right next to Ian and pulled the blanket down so it was right below his shoulders.  
“I’m not in my depressive phase, Mick,” Ian said quietly and Mickey lost the worry from his face only slightly.  
“Well you could’ve fooled me,” Mickey sat with his body facing the door and his back to Ian. He turned his head to look at him. He looked just like he did when he became depressed, even if it wasn’t that, it was still just as worrying. “What’s wrong then?”  
Ian closed his eyes, “I fucked up so badly. I fucking-” his voice drifted off, he sounded like he got something caught in his throat. Mickey looked behind him and saw that Ian tears building up in his eyes. He kept his glare at the ceiling and he pressed his lips firmly together as he stared. “I get what I did know. I- I didn’t think that when I left that I did that much damage. I thought- I fucking thought it was one big joke.”  
Mickey wanted to yell at him. Make him feel what he felt. But he looked at Ian in the corner of his eye, and he knew that was the last thing he needed now. It was all finally hitting him, and what Mickey had wished for, for ages, was becoming his worst nightmare. He realized that he loved Ian too much to ever wish that same pain upon him.  
“When I was gone, I- I didn’t have to see everything, ya know? I didn’t get to see the nights that Fiona laid awake worrying, or you were on that couch crying. I fucked caused all of this and- God, what the fuck was I thinking?”  
Ian sat up and ripped the blanket off of himself. He swung his legs on the other side of the bed and tried to walk over to the door, but Mickey stopped him before he could leave.  
“Hey, wait,” he said softly and held his hand in front of him, his palm pressed up against his ribs. “Give me a minute, okay?”  
Ian stood there and looked away from Mickey, he didn’t get his intentions, but he wasn’t sure what would happen if he let him out of this room without talking to him, and he wasn’t about to take that risk.  
“You screwed up, I know, we all do. And I- I want to fucking hate you Ian, I really fucking do. I mean, I did for the longest time, I fucking hated you,” he chose his words calmly as he spoke, not wanting to say the wrong thing. “But as much as I hated you, and cursed the whole fucking world in your name. I never regretted being with you, and I sure as hell never would have prayed you to stay gone. Because when it came down to it, I loved you so much more than I could ever hate you.” Mickey could feel a few tears slide down his cheeks, but he didn’t let it affect how he spoke.  
In that moment, with both of their faces covered with tears, he realized that they were just two fucked up boys who didn’t know what the fuck they were doing, but that whatever it was that they were doing, they couldn’t do it alone. He couldn’t fucking do it without him.  
Ian was the one to hug Mickey, and even though it was Mickey who was the first to cry, it was Ian who sobbed loudly in Mickey’s shoulder.  
“I love you, Mickey. I never told you, but I do. I fucking love you,” he could barely hear him through his tears, but he still pulled Ian closer and held his head tightly into him, not wanting to let go.  
Mickey stayed silent as he held his arms around him and took in Ian’s scent, something he never thought he would smell again. It was like heaven on earth.  
“I’m sorry, Mick,” he spoke it so softly, he wasn’t even sure that he had said anything at all.  
“How many fucking times are you going to say that?” he asked jokingly, and thankfully, Ian laughed. Which got them both laughing until it was just the two of them standing there laughing and wiping their tear stained cheeks and just fucking staring at each other, with the tiniest bit of hope that things might actually be okay.  
Mickey woke up that morning feeling like everything from the past few days were fake, like Ian wasn’t back and that he never would be.  
Because of that, he was cautious to turn around. If he turned around and Ian wasn’t lying next to him, then that would be it, he would realize that Ian never came back and he would get an extra beer from the fridge and wouldn’t care, just drink them both. But he turned onto his side and saw that there he was, his eyes closed and hair, such a mess that Mickey questioned just how he got it to look nice in the morning.  
“Mornin’ carrot-top,” Mickey whispered, moving himself closer to Ian, so his face was near his ear.  
“Uhhhh?” Ian mumbled and pulled his blanket up higher, so his face was covered.  
“Wake up,” he fought at the blanket and eventually won. Ian squinted from the light that bled through the blinds, and he tried his best to hide a smirk but failed.  
“It’s so early,” he whined.  
Mickey yawned and tried to pull the blankets off of Ian completely, but Ian fought back, using all of his strength to keep the blanket on him.  
“It’s cold!” Ian yelled aggravated, and tugged at the blanket, his eyes still closed and hair still a mess.  
Mickey ignored him and gripped the blanket tightly, pulling it and trying hard to rip it off. Finally, Ian gave and let go of the blanket. It flew off of him and Mickey threw it on the ground next to the bed.  
“Now I’ll just have to use you for warmth,” Ian whispered and immediately shoved himself at Mickey, wrapping his arms around Mickey’s small body. He grabbed Mickey’s arm and gently put it behind him.  
Mickey bit back a laugh as he wrapped his arm around Ian and he let him cuddle his head into the crease of his neck. His legs found themselves intertwined with Mickey’s and his body doing everything possible to make it closer to Mickey’s. It was like everything from before had disappeared. And even though part of that angered him, he knew that Ian would be paying for it every second of the rest of his life. Every time that he’s at his home and someone says something and he has to say “What?”, because it was something that happened when he was gone, and he missed it. When he asks what happened to something and everyone in the room goes silent, because it totally changed when he was missed six months of everyone’s life. Six months that he wasn’t a part of. Six months that he’ll never get back.  
Mickey let Ian stay comfortably cuddled in with him for 15 minutes before he pressed his lips next to his ear and whispered “sorry”, and then continuing to push him off of him.  
Ian grumbled and ran his hands all over the bed to look for a blanket, but the only thing he found was the sheets.  
“Come on, get up,” Mickey walked to his dresser and began to pull out clothes, nice looking ones, black tops and different colored ties, fancy shit.  
It was then, that Ian decided to sit up. “Mickey, I say this as kindly as possible, but what the fuck are you doing?” he laughed softly at himself and reached over the bed to grab the blanket that Mickey had thrown down. He threw it over himself and watched Mickey as he pulled out a small selection of clothes.  
“The red tie, or gray one?” Mickey asked as he held them up to himself.  
Ian couldn’t keep a straight face now, he broke into laughter, but Mickey didn’t even flinch. Soon enough, Ian got the hint. “The red one, I guess. Why?”  
Mickey ignored him and grabbed the red tie and black dress shirt. Throwing the rest of the options at Ian and pulling a pair of black pants from the floor before leaving the room and going straight into the bathroom.  
“Be ready in 15 minutes!” he screamed before closing the door.  
Mickey took a shower, combed his hair, and changed his clothes, all in 20 minutes. Which gave Ian an extra 5 minutes to be ready.  
When he left the bathroom, he walked straight into the kitchen and saw Ian pouring himself a bowl of cereal. Mickey immediately ran to him and slapped his hand away. He dropped the box and little pieces of off brand Toast Crunch flew everywhere.  
“What was that for?”  
“No food, now let’s go. We’re taking my car.”  
Mickey grabbed his keys from the coffee table and headed for the door.  
“Where are we going?”  
“On a date.”  
Mickey flipped through the menu and looked for the cheapest thing in the breakfast area.  
“I can’t believe we’re finally going on a date.”  
He looked up to Ian and he couldn’t keep himself from smiling. Ian’s smile was plastered all over his face, he kept looking around at the cafe like an overjoyed little kid. He kind of wished he had done this earlier. It was one of the greatest things seeing him so happy, especially after seeing him so sad, and not seeing him at all.  
“I had been meaning to do it for a long time now. And when you left, well I- I had made a list of things I would finally do, if I actually got the chance. Actually go on a date, was the first one.” Mickey was careful to look up at Ian, he wasn’t sure how he was going to take it, mentioning sad things like that. But Ian just smiled and nodded before happily shouting that he wanted the blueberry waffles. What a fucking dork.  
“I’ll have the maple pancakes, and two coffees, please,” he told the waitress and she nodded. Writing some things on her pad of paper and then leaving their table.  
She had taken the menus, so now Ian was just staring at the things around him, but his eyes always wandered back to Mickey. He wasn’t even sure if he was doing it on purpose, but it was nice to feel.  
“What’s the next thing on the list?” Ian asked Mickey.  
“Uh,” he felt around in his pocket, but he knew he didn’t have it. “I think it’s 'go to a movie',” he said trying to think.  
Ian’s eyes lit up and he smiled largely, “I’ll take you to that after breakfast.” Mickey wanted to argue, but he could see that the look on his face wouldn’t take anything other than a yes, so he smiled and looked down at the table.  
He took a deep breath, before extending his arms out under the table, and grabbing tightly onto Ian’s hands. He seemed surprised by this, usually they didn’t do anything but hug in public, but he couldn’t help himself. He needed to hold onto him.  
He held onto his hands until the waitress appeared with the food, which then, he let go so he could take hold of his coffee and sip it. He took the waffles and handed them to Ian, and took the pancakes for himself.  
He waited for Ian to eat half of his plate before asking him if he liked his food.  
“This is incredible,” he smiled and took a huge bite out of his waffles.  
Mickey looked up at Ian, the boy who left him for six months and although it fucking hurt, it hurt to let him back and it hurt to have him gone. He realized that was how much he loved him. He would rather go through this all over again, losing him again, for even the chance of a few normal months. Because that smile, that god damn smile, made everything worth it.


End file.
